


Keeping the Peace

by Asynca



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: And stubborn, Gen, I like imagining the dynamic between the three of them, also tyrande is headstrong as hell, and actually pretty unwise compared to shandris, look I like it when maiev and tyrande fight with each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 00:24:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17970929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asynca/pseuds/Asynca
Summary: Maiev and Tyrande have different ideas about how to best protect the kaldorei. Maiev's ways are all wrong... at least, according to Tyrande.Set before patch 8.1.





	Keeping the Peace

It wasn’t even dark yet. It was so early in the evening, in fact, that Malfurion was still fast asleep beside her. Tyrande opened her eyes a little, watching his chest slowly rise and fall under her cheek. She would have been perfectly content to doze against him for another hour or two, but—

There it was again: the clang of steel, a woman’s voice shouting instructions. Tyrande couldn’t hear the instructions clearly enough to determine if they were being delivered Darnassian, but she almost didn’t need to. Humans didn’t do training drills at sunset. Kaldorei shouldn’t be doing them, either—Stormwind was full of humans, and they’d all be laying their children down to rest now. Humans may have tiny ears and poor hearing, but even _their_ children wouldn’t sleep well to the sounds of combat. She needed to do something about this.

Carefully disentangling herself from her beloved, she quietly slid a gown over her shoulders and slipped out of Stormwind Keep. It was so soon after sundown that the flagstones were still warm under her feet as she made her way through emptying districts, dodging stern looks from citizens as she passed about the racket. She tried to smile apologetically at them; she wasn’t sure the message got across.  

She’d been following the sound of clashing weapons and shouting towards where it lead her—predictably, towards the Kaldorei refugee settlement—when she spotted Shandris sitting thoughtfully on a set of stairs leading to Olivia’s Pond. There was a deep frown on her forehead, and when Tyrande followed her line of sight, she saw why.

In the distance, somewhat obscured by the shrubbery around the lake, there were a series of kaldorei refugees in line formation, doing combat drills. They weren’t sentinels, though. They weren’t even hunters. They were a raggedy lot of motley appearance: a few older and somewhat frail elves, some children barely old enough to be able to hold a glaive and, to Tyrande’s dismay, a heavily pregnant seamstress who was clearly struggling.

That was going too far, even now. Children were far too precious! “What in the name of Elune _is_ all this?” Tyrande asked Shandris, disgusted.  

Shandris gave her a long, weary look as if to suggest it wouldn’t be a surprise to her. “Reserve training,” she said simply enough, and then nodded back at the refugees.

Tyrande looked back at the lines of people… and that’s when she spotted a familiar figure stride into view. The crescent moon shoulder-guards. The horned helmet. The iron-clad body and thick cape walking arrogantly up and down the lines of kaldorei ‘reservists’, inspecting their technique and being none too sympathetic about their form.

There was really only one person who would consider military training appropriate for such people at a time like this: Maiev Shadowsong.

Tyrande’s long, heavy sigh made Shandris give her a tired smile. “I’ve been trying to decide what I should do about it, if anything,” she confessed. “Perhaps there’s no harm in it? She’s not going too hard on the weak ones, after all.”

Tyrande felt like she’d aged another hundred years in a minute. “You can hear it all the way up in Stormwind,” she said. “I was getting dour looks on the way down here. The last thing I need is a horde of angry humans beating down Anduin’s door and telling him we’re keeping all their children awake.” She shook her head. “No. I need to put a stop to this.”

She’d taken a step downward towards the pond when Shandris took her arm. “Perhaps let’s just let it continue tonight? I doubt many of those kaldorei will return again tomorrow. They’ll be too sore.”

Tyrande wasn’t having any of it. “By tomorrow night half the city will be whispering about how rude the Kaldorei are. We stand out enough already. Maiev never thinks about any of these things.”

Shandris didn’t release her arm. “The humans know what we’ve been through. I think they’ll forgive one sleepless—”

“ _Shandris_ ,” Tyrande began, cutting her off with the voice she only used when she wanted to remind Shandris who was mother and who was daughter. “There can be no reason to let this continue. You can’t reasonably tell me you think any of those poor civilians _want_ Maiev to shout at them all evening?”

Naturally, Shandris had nothing to say to counter that.

Tyrande nodded primly. “Exactly. This is Maiev treating the kaldorei as her personal arsenal again. I’ll not stand for it.”

Shandris winced. She opened her mouth as if to disagree with Tyrande, but Tyrande gave her a very sharp look; she didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with Shandris’s naivety today. Fortunately, Shandris thought better of arguing and freed Tyrande’s arm. “Alright,” she said. “If you think it’s best.”

Tyrande didn’t like her tone. “I _know_ it’s best,” she told her daughter firmly, and then without waiting for Shandris to pipe up about ‘patience’ or ‘restraint’ again like she usually did, she went to go and stop this combat nonsense before anyone got hurt.

Maiev was busy closely criticising someone’s form when Tyrande walked directly into the combat lines, unconcerned about the fact everyone had glaives and no one knew how to use them. As a result, she had to dodge a glaive that nearly ended up in her stomach.

It belonged to a tiny girl of probably ten or eleven who dropped the offending glaive into the soil, hands flying to her mouth. “High Priestess!” she exclaimed through them, big glowing saucer-eyes visible over her fingers. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t— I mean, I— my brother was in Teldrassil, and I—!”

Tyrande shushed the poor dear by touching her head. “It wasn’t your fault,” she told her gently, turning a much harder look on Maiev, who had finally noticed her. “Glaives are too big and heavy to be given to children. It was only a matter of time before you hurt someone.”

Maiev’s eyes dimmed as she narrowed them. “Tyrande,” she said dryly. “The only person I can think of who would walk in front of a swinging glaive and blame anyone except herself for being cut by it.”

The kaldorei glanced at each other, looking uncomfortable. Tyrande observed it, deciding it was better they were uncomfortable about two leaders fighting than injured because they didn’t. She opted to ignore Maiev’s jibe and get straight to the point. “This combat training is over,” she told them. “You may all return to your affairs.”

Predictably, Maiev took issue with her order. “This combat training is not being run by you, _High Priestess_ , and it’s not over.” She gestured at her ‘recruits’. “These kaldorei have decided they want to be able to defend themselves should anything like Teldrassil happen again, and it is my honour to teach them how to do so.”

Tyrande looked at the lines of elves. Amongst them, she had to concede there were a few defiant expressions for whom Maiev’s words were probably true, but far more of the faces looked just as weary as Tyrande felt. It was madness to be training them. “If that is the case, you can conduct the training with _fit adults,_ and at dawn so you don’t disturb our hosts.”

“Do only fit adults need to protect themselves, High Priestess?” Maiev shot back at Tyrande, sweeping her cape out and walking right up to her. “Do you think the Horde will do the honourable thing and spare our weak and our children?” She reached out to the little girl Tyrande had comforted before. “Or will they take our children and cut them down without a second thought?”

The girl did not look at all comforted by Maiev’s touch. In fact, if Tyrande’s keen eye was anything to go by, she shrank away from it. Rightly so. “Leave that poor girl alone, Maiev,” Tyrande ordered, reaching out a taking a hold of the girl herself. “She may make a fine warrior in the future, but she’s a child now.”

Maiev didn’t release her. “A child who wishes to know how to protect herself, and who wishes to avenge her brother,” she said, and then looked down at the terrified girl who was being gripped by two of her most formidable leaders. “Isn’t that right, Jaesra? You want to make the Horde pay for what they did to your brother?” The girl looked between the two of them, eyes flashing in panic.

Tyrande was disgusted. “Maiev, this is low, even for you,” she said coldly, pulling the girl towards her. “Stop using this poor girl as a pawn in your selfish little quest to—”

“—my ‘selfish little quest’ to teach our few remaining people how to stay alive in the face of danger?” Maiev interrupted her, again trying to justify herself as she tried to retrieve her poor ‘recruit’ from Tyrande’s grasp. “I _apologise_ for being the one of us who actually wants to do everything she can to protect the kaldorei!” Her voice positively _dripped_ with poison. “Now, why don’t you run along back up to the Keep with _Malfurion_ and go back to sleep surrounded by your precious humans and let a _real_ warrior take care of the—”

“ _Enough,_ Maiev! I won’t have any more of this madness!” Tyrande began, surprised at how loud her voice was. “Protecting people is more than just about teaching them how to _fight_! Children can’t fight, the injured can’t fight! Many of our fine tailors, our cooks, our teachers, none of them can or should fight! You can’t simply—”

“How do you propose we protect ourselves, then, _priestess_? What happens next Teldrassil? We can’t station wardens and guards or even _sentinels_ with every civilian all the time, what happens when we’re not there to protect them? We let our people down by not doing _everything in our power_ to make them safe, and that means learning how to protect themselves from—”

“Good evening.” A different voice interrupted them both.

They stopped shouting in each other’s faces and looked across at the speaker.

Shandris was standing nearby, looking for all the world like she had casually wandered over to a calm, stimulating conversation. She even had a pleasant smile. “Maiev,” she said, addressing her with some respect. “I must apologise for eavesdropping, but I found myself nodding and agreeing with you so I came over to explore the matter further.” She didn’t acknowledge Tyrande at all—Tyrande was _not_ happy about that. She also wasn’t happy about what came out of her daughter’s mouth next. “You’re right. I think training our people is an excellent idea.”

Maiev seemed taken aback; it didn’t last long. She puffed out her chest. “Of course it is.”

Tyrande turned a very hard expression on her daughter, who walked right past her and put a collegial hand on Maiev’s arm. “However, it must be difficult to organise this sort of training with no support,” she said easily, taking advantage of Tyrande’s and Maiev’s surprise to give the girl who’d been suspended between them a little push so she could run off. “Perhaps I can convince Tyrande to lend us the resources to roll it out to everyone, and not just the people here today?” Shandris shot a look over her shoulder at Tyrande.

The only reason Tyrande hesitated was that she couldn’t believe Shandris would side with that _mad woman_ over her own mother, a woman who’d been by her side for 10,000 years and who had raised her and sheltered her and cared for her, and she opened to her mouth to tell Shandris that _under no circumstances would she ever so anything of the…._

She caught sight of Shandris’ expression. It was a grimace.

That was—odd. Considering it, it suddenly occurred to her that Shandris might _not_ be on Maiev’s side. On second thoughts, of course she wasn’t: Shandris would _never_ side with Maiev. Very well, then, if Shandris had some sort of plan, she would play along and see where this went.

She straightened. “Perhaps I can provide some support,” she told Shandris as coldly as she could manage. “But I’ll need to see a clear plan of how to go about training civilians. Straight into glaives just won’t do.”

“Well, I’m sure with more resources Maiev would have done things differently,” Shandris fired back, and then looked at Maiev. “Is that not so?”

Maiev was clearly very suspicious. “Daggers would normally be a good first step, but we hardly have any,” she said anyway.

Shandris nodded firmly. “I knew it would be something like that,” she said, and then put a guiding hand on Maiev’s shoulder. Maiev looked critically at it. “Come, let’s go to the war room and determine what sort of resources we can ask Tyrande and King Anduin for. Together, we can make sure that not a single kaldorei is ever helpless against the Horde again, even if we are not there to protect them.”

Maiev had clearly been on the cusp of pushing Shandris away and continuing the drills, but that last sentence gave her pause. She spent a moment in frozen deliberation with herself, and then her shoulders relaxed a little. “Very well,” she agreed, still not sounding wholly convinced. “I’ll hear your plan. Perhaps it has merit.” To the field full of civilians trying to manage huge glaives, she bellowed, “I expect to see all of you tomorrow night! Keep working on those lunges!”

Shandris winced. However, rather than commenting on the commend, she began to lead Maiev up towards the Stormwind Keep. Over her shoulder, she shot Tyrande a brief, triumphant smile.

Tyrande nodded to acknowledge it, and watched them leave.

On one hand, she felt satisfied this nonsense was dealt with so easily. On the other, was it— _too_ easily, perhaps? She couldn’t shake a vague uneasiness at just how very well Shandris dealt with Maiev. That bloodthirsty madwoman had historically proven _very_ difficult to manage. It probably wasn’t worth dwelling on such a concern, however. These things never were. It was likely a simple matter of Maiev having a particular problem with Tyrande, and any third person who would have intervened would have succeeded where she hadn’t. Yes, she decided, that was most likely it.

Satisfied with that explanation, she assisted the poor ‘recruits’ to stow the glaives they’d borrowed, and then followed in Shandris and Maiev’s footsteps back to the keep. Now that she didn’t have to listen to the clang of steel or Maiev’s horrible voice, she hoped she could slip back into bed and steal another hour or two of sleep beside her beloved.

 

**Author's Note:**

> But you totally know she’s not going to be able to resist eavesdropping on Shandris and Maiev because she’s just like that, right?


End file.
